Epistle
by Shadow Storyteller
Summary: It's been five years since Gon and Killua parted and Killua began traveling with Alluka, but thoughts of his friends still linger in his everyday life. When the siblings return to the Republic of Padokia to celebrate an old holiday, Killua finds himself reflecting on his old relationship with Gon and what he wants out of life now. Past and pre-slash Gon/Killua


**This was written for kimyounashounen for the Hunter x Hunter Christmas exchange on Tumblr back in December of 2013. I figured I'd upload it here as well since I still really like this fic over a year later.**

 **Sadly doesn't let me add pictures like ao3, so I've had to use horizontal lines instead. I've also had to reformat a few things, but there should be no problems.**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

It's their fifth year traveling together when Alluka finally insists (demands, really) on celebrating Epistle.

Now at this point, Alluka is sixteen and obviously old enough to know that it's Killua that'll be leaving the presents and not some magic holiday partridge, but it's been a hard year for them both. Killua understands the desire to pretend things are simple like all those years ago, back when the Zoldyck family at least pretended to be something resembling a family rather than the iron cage.

Plus they can actually afford it now that they're older.

So they make plans. They take all of November to travel back to the Republic of Padokia, looping and doubling back and switching flights and boats along the way. Both of them are on edge, hyperaware of their family now that they're heading directly into the dragon's lair, and December 1st brings a unanimous decision between the two of them to stay on the border and let Kukuroo Mountain stay a blot in the distance as they settle into a nice, small town that celebrates Epistle.

When the siblings enter town around noon, there are already letters hanging from the trees, sticking out of windows, and even poking out from under rocks. Alluka wastes no time pulling one of her own letters out of her pocket and setting it directly next to tiny pond near the town's library, grinning back at her brother as she pointedly goes on ahead to find a hotel. Killua rolls his eyes but picks up the letter anyway (like he doesn't already know what's written in it) and stuffs it into his bag.

Killua feels his hand brush against his own crumpled paper as he withdraws his hand and sighs. Alluka insists that they write to the holiday partridge too, but the thing is…there isn't anything he wants. Nothing Alluka can buy anyway. What he wants is to stop looking over his shoulder for Illumi. What he wants is to know about his friends.

(What he _really_ wants is to see Gon, but that always seems wrong because why should he still give a crap about someone who managed to hurt him worse than his family's training ever did?)

So he gives in and pulls out one of his letters, not even bothering to straighten it out of the ball it's been crushed into before throwing it on top of the library's roof.

For a few minutes Killua doesn't move, watching his breath puff out into white vapor in a daze. He wonders which letter that was. Maybe it was one of his embarrassing ones. Maybe not.

Then he abruptly turns on his heel, pulls his scarf up over his mouth, and jogs after Alluka.

His sister follows him the rest of the day, clearly waiting for Killua to place his own letter, but he just silently laughs as her face becomes more and more impatient as the sun sinks in the sky. Alluka might be pretty mature for her age, but she can still be reduced to a pouting child in less than two minutes. She's stubborn too, and trusting, so it takes her until nearly ten at night to comment on it.

"Killua," she starts innocently as they climb into their beds, "why didn't you put out your first letter?"

The older Zoldyck grins at his sister. "I did. You just didn't see."

"But, Killua~!" And there's that pout, full-force with a whine to back it up.

"The partridge knows where it is," he teases, shutting off the light. "Besides, I used to hide my letters under the house and in holes everywhere around the yard. If it can't find my letter, well…" He shrugs. "At least you'll get some stuff Alluka. Just make sure to share with your poor brother."

Alluka huffs. "You're a spoil sport, Brother."

* * *

(written on good printer paper, stuffed into an envelope, and crumpled into a ball.)

 _ _ _ _December 1st____

 _Dear Partridge, this is so stupid_

 _Hi? I guess? I know I'm supposed to act like you're real and Alluka'll get mad at me if I don't, but it's just weird._

 _I don't know if I'm actually going to put any letters out, but I guess there's no harm in it?_

 _So what would I like for Epistle… something small for the first day, right? I want socks. Bright, purple socks with little soldiers on them._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

Once there was a bird—a partridge in fact— who lived in an old tree at what was believed to be the edge of the world. Everyday it poked and gathered and primed its tree. It minded its own business, and the world minded theirs, and it never chirped out one single word to the few who passed by until one day a woman collapsed beneath its tree, sobbing so brokenly that the partridge could not keep silent.

The bird flew down to the lowest branch on his tree and asked, "Why are you crying? May I help?"

The woman wiped her eyes and looked up at the bird, considering. "Bird," she said at last, "do you know of the world beyond your tree?"

The partridge nodded his head, looking kindly at the woman. "Why, of course. I know much of the world. I have made the trip many times—"

"Oh, partridge!" the woman cried, leaping to her feet. "You can travel? Around the world?" She nearly laughed with delight when it nodded. "And, say, carry items with you?" Again, the partridge nodded, and the woman laughed. "Do you truly wish to help me?"

Really all the partridge wanted to do was snuggle back into its nest and sleep, but it would make a journey for this poor woman. It nodded.

"My children," the woman began, "have been separated from me, five sons and five daughters in total. They are spread across the world, doomed to forget their home if they do not return, but I want them to remember me. I don't want them to forget my face or my voice, forget their home and their family, so I want you to deliver them pieces of home so that they will only have to look and remember me. I want you to call them home."

The partridge, unwilling though it was, was moved by the woman's story, and presented itself to her in full service, taking her wish up with the determination of a thousand men and setting off into the world to find her children.

The partridge found the youngest child within a day. The young man was a year before adulthood, the image of his mother and home clear and cherished in his heart, but travel lust was a strong glint in his eye, and the partridge knew the man would not be content to stay at home. It wasted little time with that son, only pausing long enough to confirm his well-being and bestow the woman's simplest gift—a chip of wood from their front door— before setting off to find the others.

"Wait, bird!" the young man cried. "When you meet my mother again, please tell her I am fine and will be home again."

Partridge scoffed at the boy. "Should you not return to her yourself? A journey can wait until the world is new, but your mother may not if she has a broken heart. She is to the north. Find her and then take your journey."

It took the partridge two days to locate the woman's second child, a pretty young girl newly made an adult who found adventures in the front yard. Less prone to wandering than her brother, she had fast found a new home by the sea and was already the apple of the town's eye. Her true home was no longer the childhood one of memories, but she had not yet forgotten it.

However the partridge knew that her new home was set in stone. They didn't communicate passed a nod of acknowledgement when she was given her gift—an old decoration to hang on the door to welcome— but the partridge knew she would return to her mother before the year was out, and it set out across the ocean to find the third child.

…or something.

* * *

(written on a notebook paper and shoved into a cheap envelope)

 _ _ _December 3rd___

 _I want chocolate balls. A whole box. The company stopped making them last year and I just ate my last one. Seriously, even a small piece from anyone would be much appreciated._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

Compared to most holidays in the known world, Epistle is pretty old. There was a movement way back (Killua's always been crap at dates, but he knows the Zoldycks were just beginning the family business when it happened) that basically shut down most cultures' celebrations on immoral grounds. So while the rest of the world had to evolve out of their insane holidays, what would someday be the Republic of Padokea and its surrounding areas continued on as it was and gained some arrogance about its customs.

Originally Epistle lasted twenty days with only ten serving to actually celebrate the holiday— one day of rest in between one day for each of the ten children the partridge is said to have visited on his trip around the world— but people turned into a full twenty day ordeal and added in "traditional" food as a way to keep up morale and to rub it in the faces of the rest of the world.

In present day, families are about evenly split on how many days and foods they chose to celebrate, but the Zoldycks, suckers for tradition that they are, celebrated ten. The town the siblings had settled in had a majority of people that followed the less traditional twenty-day celebration, which means the stalls on the street and the restaurants have a new "traditional" desert everyday instead of just ten.

This becomes a problem for the siblings pretty fast.

"No, Brother! You are _not_ having eggnog!"

"Why?" Killua fumes, resisting the urge to cross his arms and glare at his sister. "It's not like I'm underage here, and it's only made with a fourth or something of alcohol—"

"I don't care! It's not one of the days! You can't eat it."

Apparently Alluka's a stickler for tradition. Who knew?

Killua tries not to grind his teeth together. He wants to get _away_ from those old traditions, damn it! Not _embrace_ them. It's probably just payback for the letters, but he's _not_ in a mood today. Alluka has her jaw set in that stubborn line, which means every word he speaks from now on is going feel like he's bashing his head against a brick wall, which reminds him of someone _else_ with the same stubborn streak, which always just flares his temper all the more.

"Eggnog," he tells the waitress, unable to curb the bite in the words.

"No," Alluka says, leveling the poor girl with her own special brand of Zoldyck glare.

The waitress drops their check on the table and nearly flees back to the kitchen. Killua scowls at his sister, who does her best to look innocent and sweet. Feeling his last nerve snap and dissolve into nothing, Killua grabs a napkin on the table and a pen from his pocket, writing sloppily on it before tossing it at Alluka. "There! My third letter!"

She grabs it, angrily stuffing it into her bag. "I won't read it till tomorrow," she declares, "like you're _supposed_ to."

"You're a spoil sport, Sis," he mocks, feeling a headache starting.

Needless to say the rest of the night is spent in stony silence.

* * *

(written on a restaurant napkin)

 _ _December 4th__

 _What do I want magic partridge? I want a damn case of beer. I'm eighteen, it's been legal for half a year, and I just neED ONE NIGHT._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

The partridge found the third youngest on a boat two days from his sister's new home. He was a thief if the bird ever saw one, a pirate through and through. Where his sister was timid, this one was slyer than a snake and just as poisonous. Already the ship was falling apart at the seams, the son's path to captain stretched out cleanly before while the crew dissolved into chaos. He was someone that would never have a true home again, but would hold onto the memory as if it was one of the precious gems in his treasure chest.

They exchanged brief words, the partridge handing over the next gift—an old, favorite toy—before it left for land, noting absently that the route the son's ship was taking would lead him home in a matter of days if unaltered.

The next daughter brought the partridge to an unfamiliar forest with trees that made its nose itch. She was a dreamer rather than a realist, someone with stars not yet shaken from her eyes, and the partridge knew that this child had the potential to forget everything in the face of wonder. So it gave her one of her mother's more cherished gifts, a plain metal key to open her old home's door, and strung it around her neck, so that the weight would always remain at least in the back of her mind as a constant reminder. The partridge wasn't sure if the girl noticed it or not, but he had ground to cover and left the girl to her forest.

The fifth child was found ankle-deep in blood in the middle of a war he was forced into. Stars had been yanked out of his eyes to make the bullets of his gun, and the image of home seemed more like a half-forgotten dream he had last week. Songs and laugher of childhood were replaced with shots and screams, and the partridge knew the mother's fear had come to pass with this one.

It gave the boy a music box that played a childhood lullaby and sat with him for a day before heading out to find the next sibling, leaving the haunted boy with news of a ship that would come to pass and take him home safe.

…or something.

* * *

(written on hotel stationary in the middle of the night and thrown under the bed)

 _December 5th_

 _I want to know if Kurapika's making progress on his eye hunt. I want to know that he's getting his revenge and is going to be happy afterwords. According to most revenge stories he won't, but I hope he will be._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

Alluka gets sick two days after their fight. Killua may or may not go a little crazy with panic, especially when the hotel calls the town doctor's office without his okay and herds the two of them out of their room and down the street to a building that reeks of medicine and bad memories. It's a testament to his self-control that he doesn't rip their hearts out right there.

(He hates hospitals— hates them _so_ much—and the smell of anesthetic always brings the sound of beeping machines to his ears, that stupid steady beat that let him know no matter how twisted the body was that didn't mean the boy wasn't alive in there somewhere, wasn't gone, wasn't in pain, wasn't past hope—)

One of the doctors asks Killua if he's feeling okay. The boy shrugs him off, doing his best to ignore how similar the man looks to another doctor he knows. Doctor man gives the Zoldyck one more concerned glance before disappearing in the back to check on Alluka, leaving Killua only with the ticking of the clock and his own stifled panic.

It takes them all of ten minutes to diagnose the problem, but it feels like hours to Killua.

"Exhaustion," the doctor from before tells him. "He—"

"She."

"—She was firing on all cylinders for a few days, am I right?" doctor man asks, changing his pronoun without missing a beat, more than understanding. Another stab of familiarity hits Killua right in the gut as he nods. "We always get a few cases like this every season. The holiday is probably our peak time for this stuff," he muses. "People that overwork themselves collapse, teens fall out of trees and off roofs trying to out-do their friends with those letters…" He smiles kindly at Killua. "Then there're the ones like your sister who get so excited they make themselves sick."

"So she's okay?" Killua presses. He needs to hear it out loud.

"Yeah, she's okay." The fist around Killua's heart relaxes. "Just a day of rest and she'll be good as new." Doctor man fixes his eyes on the older Zoldyck, a small, concerned frown pulling at his mouth. "Are _you_ okay? Haven't been overworking it like your sister, have you? You seem a bit pale."

"Fine," Killua says hurriedly, standing. "I'm just not one for hospitals n' stuff." He attempts to leave the conversation, heading to the back room for his sister, but doctor man follows, still reeking of worry.

That's something Leorio would do too.

"You can leave her here and we'll take care of her if you have stuff to do—"

"No," he snaps, and he can feel the tips of his fingers itching to produce claws, his Nen flare in preparation. But he holds it in long enough to grit out some bull excuses about Alluka being uncomfortable in strange rooms and people (which is basically the complete opposite of his sister) and how he has nothing to do today (they need more food and he needs to start picking up Alluka's presents) while he picks up his sister and leaves.

Killua can feel Alluka shiver in his arms when they leave. They hadn't had time to change out of their PJs before rushing out of the hotel, so she's still in her thin tank and matching bottoms. Killua fared a little better in his mismatched t-shirt and pants, but not by much. It _is_ still December, and he doesn't have any shoes on. Just because he can tolerate it doesn't mean it's not unpleasant.

He jogs back home, making it as smooth a journey as possible so as to not disturb Alluka. The stairs give him some trouble, but he makes it back to their warm room without waking her up, so he clocks it in as a win and sets her down on her bed, tucking her under the covers.

The rest of the day is spent next to Alluka's bedside. Every time she sighs in her sleep, every time she shifts, every time so much as a sniffle sounds from her, Killua has to bite down the impulse to run back over to the doctor's office and drag doctor man back to check on his sister. The worst thing is that he knows logically that Alluka's fine, but his brain can't stop crossing her with a different person, a younger boy transformed into a living, decomposing corpse of paper skin and brittle bones—

But that's nothing new. He's always had a bad habit of mixing his sister up with his former best friend. It took him over a year to stop buying Gon's snacks for Alluka and another year to stop buying them altogether. He'll go to the grave swearing it's not his fault, and he's not _projecting_ , okay? The two just have too much in common for their own good. Of course he'd cross them once or twice when he's stressed or exhausted, but this…it doesn't matter who it is anymore. Any type of sickness sends his mind to five years ago, running from Illumi with Alluka to save his most important person—

Killua shakes his head. That's dangerous territory. Change the subject.

He wishes Leorio was there. He'd be more relaxed and a little less jumpy with someone he trusted giving his "official doctor diagnosis," and the guy would surely be able to take his mind off his sister somehow, or at least talk Killua through his unreasonable panic.

 _Why don't you call him?_ whispers a voice in the back of Killua's mind, but he shakes it off. Not for the first time he wonders if his and Gon's parting can be better described as a break up with Gon getting to keep all their friends, but it's really his own awkwardness keeping him from them.

Well, that and his fear of what Illumi would do to them if he ever got _really_ serious about finding Alluka.

Sighing, Killua grabs his back and pulls out a book (Dino Hunter or something. Alluka really liked it), settling down to wait out the rest of the day.

* * *

(written on hotel stationary and left folded on the dresser)

 _December 6th_

 _December 7th if it makes Alluka happy  
_

 _I want a phone call from Leorio. He's supposed to be a doctor now, and I don't want to drag him into mine and Alluka's problems. He's such a worrywart. But I don't know. I'd just really like to hear that guy's voice again._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

The partridge found the sixth child on a throne a thousand miles away from her brother. She was regal, confident, with a sharp face fit for royalty. Her throne seemed to be a part of her body, made specifically to cradle her body as she looked above her subjects. The idea of home had been thrown away as easily as she changed from rags to robes, tall castles and a loyal court overshadowing the modest hut and siblings that made up the first twenty-odd years of her life.

Judging her to be in a much better shape than her brother, the bird left the new queen her mother's old necklace, a half-rusted thing with one single, shining gem kept polished to a gleam. The partridge had faith in the daughter's remaining love for her homeland and set off for the next sibling.

The mother's next two children were feuding, tearing the countryside apart as they raged. Mirror images, one boy and one girl, were devoid of any thought but their twin's demise. Gone where the days of companionship in the forest of home. Gone were lazy days that flowed by like a peaceful steam. Love had turned violent, the source of the strife already lost in the midst of their war, and the partridge knew these two had fallen fate to the same sorrowful condition as the fifth child.

Employing its own bit of trickery, the partridge gave each twin a present—the boy his sister's favorite mug and the girl her brother's favorite cup—telling them each the key to defeating the other was at the origin of their gift before heading off to the remaining children.

…or something.

* * *

(written on old notebook paper and left in the bottom of a bag)

 _ _December 9th_  
December 11th _

_I want to stop being scared of Illumi every single day. I want him to leave us alone. I want my family to just disappear off the planet._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

Alluka and Killua split up around noon on December 12th to finally start shopping for the other person, though how Alluka has anything to buy Killua is beyond him when he's only given her two of his six letters and one of them asked for alcohol. He feels a bit guilty about it, especially since Alluka's letters are so easy to find, but another stubborn part of him won't let her have it easy, so here they are.

Killua quickly finishes his shopping and ends up with two hours before they need to meet up for dinner. He only had an old granola bar to eat this morning, so lunch it is. He saw a café down the street perfect for a quick meal, and if they happen to be serving a special holiday dish, who is he to not join in on the holiday spirit?

It's pleasant inside the café, showy but warm. Not a place Killua would keep coming back too if he had the chance, but a snug little place to escape the cold for now. The crowd's young—Killua's age—and what probably passes for "hip" in this town. They greet him with a mix of weary stares and hesitant welcome, but it's not outright hostile, which is good enough for him.

The first thing his waiter does is ask for an ID, but Killua really doesn't feel like digging in his bag to prove he's eighteen and just flashes him his Hunter License while ordering a sandwich. It's not like he'll be buying anything like that anyway.

 _Now_ he's really got some eyes on him. Killua just huffs silently and pulls out his old cell to fiddle with. The Beatle 07's been updated over the years, but getting a new one just always seems like a hassle. It's not like he needs all those weird games and apps as long as the phone can work, and they're really expensive if you don't have someone like Leorio there to lower the price. Plus it does put off some of the people staring at him. Some.

He's about half way through his meal when someone decides to plop down in the empty chair next to him. Killua feels his temper rear its ugly head just a bit— what cocky ass just sits down in a chair without asking permission? Not one Killua wants to know, thank you— but then the guy actually delivers one of the corniest lines in existence.

"I'm sorry for taking your chair, but you just took my breath away so fast I had to sit down."

Killua looks up, torn between laughing and throwing the remainder of his sandwich at him, but what he sees takes his breath away.

Gon.

But then he blinks and his eyes remember how to work properly. It's just an elaborate Gon copy. The spiky hair is styled, not at all natural, and it's actually dyed green at the tips rather than the strange off-coloring Gon's hair has. Err…Had. Maybe he still has it? His tan isn't natural. His smile is too contained. The eyes aren't right either. Killua could write a book on how wrong his eyes are.

The Gon copy blinks in confusion at Killua's expression, some of his smile slipping, and Killua doesn't bother to answer, quickly looking back to his sandwich and hoping he'll get the message.

It takes what feels like forever, but the Gon copy gets up and goes back to his friends, obviously putout. Killua figures he should feel bad for ignoring the guy, but this is usually how it goes (minus the person being the spitting image of Gon). It's his normal course of action in this situation, changed only once or twice because, well…he has _needs_ , okay?

That Gon copy though…he dredges up some thoughts Killua would rather not have, because that guy was damn handsome. And he looked like Gon. But he was _handsome_. Which makes Killua wonder if the actual Gon is handsome too.

And then he starts thinking about how Gon might look now, because he's probably shorter than Killua still, maybe taller if they count how high his hair sticks up. His face probably isn't sharp, but he must have lost all the baby fat. He probably has wide set shoulders made for sports, or just a much more stereotypically male body on the whole. Muscled arms n' such. Or maybe he looks exactly like Ging.

And then Killua's thoughts drift further right, and he wonders what Gon would think of him because Killua knows he's not ugly— he's had more than several boys and girls hit on him over the years— but he isn't what would be considered handsome. He's lithe, tall. Almost gangly. His face is sharp, and his skin never does manage to get any color, let alone hold it as a tan. He has muscles, but they're subtle until he actually uses them. So he's not handsome, but he's attractive for sure.

What Killua's trying to say is that he could possibly find Gon attractive now, and Gon could possibly find him attractive too.

Weird.

* * *

(written on the back of a café recite and thrown out the window of a hotel building)

 _December 13th_

 _A picture of Gon._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

The partridge found the second eldest child in the middle of construction. Tall beams eager to support stood proud around her, and well-chosen workers worked at a steady pace, songs drifting on the wind as they built windows, walls, floors, doors. Crops seemed to try a little harder in her presence, growing towards her as she walked through the developing land, and the partridge had to admit it was an area aptly chosen for life. It was open and wide, full of resources and shinning possibilities, but the woman hadn't let it blind her. Home was still there in the way she built the houses, in the way chairs were made and crops planted. The source may be dim, but the inspiration source was vivid as day as it took on the shape of a city.

She only needed a small refresher to recall home, her mother, and so the partridge gave her the family's antique bowl, a magnificent thing made of fine glass and painted in impossible detail. It told her the bowl is only a piece of a set, and that it would be such a waste to keep it away from its companions for too long. With the idea planted, he left the girl to her work and went to find the final child.

The eldest was not much to behold. He was neither strong nor wise, but he was not weak or dumb. He was not confident, but his shoulders didn't curve with the weight of the world's eyes either. He did not hold all of the stars in his eyes, and yet a few did remain to give them a certain twinkling light. He marched steadily home, but would stop to look at the sights that passed him, concentrating on the journey as much as the goal, and the partridge felt bested for the first time since he started his journey. Here was a child that was heading home themselves, had home held in the highest regard. Was he to give him the final gift? Or was he to return it to the woman? The boy held no danger of forgetting.

Uttering a small, frustrated sound, the partridge descended and landed on the man's shoulder. It was welcomed with open arms, able to rest truly for the first time in eighteen days,.

…or something.

* * *

(written on the back of a gun wrapper and tossed in the trash)

 _December 15th_

 _Gon's number._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

All Alluka wants to do anymore is watch the sappy holiday movies where snowmen talk and angels exist and love saves the day and Killua's ready to short circuit the TV if he sees one more movie that has a couple realizing the true meaning of Epistle and kissing over sweeping music and movie credits. It's that or he's going to puke.

Frankly, it's depressing. Because thinking about Gon— _really_ thinking about Gon for the first time in years has led Killua to some pretty big discoveries over the last few days. Five in total neatly labeled in his mind.

Discovery One: Killua had been in love with Gon. Had been. Once. Past tense. Probably happened sometime in Greed Island before everything went bad, but the fact that he didn't realize it until after he'd already gotten over it five years later makes him want to bury his head under the covers and never come out. How could he have been so _blind_ is what he wants to know, and it really would have made the whole Pitou incident less hurtful if he'd known _why_ he'd been so damn devoted to his friend.

He still remembers the feeling clearly. It had felt like Gon was demanding his heart, and Killua hadn't been able to understand why he was so eager to rip it out of his chest and offer it to him on a silver platter.

Discovery Two: Just because he isn't in love with Gon anymore doesn't mean he doesn't love him anymore. He still cares a lot. Too much really. It's why the guy's ghost has been stalking the back of his mind for the last five years. What he's going to do about it he isn't really sure, because—

Discovery Three: Killua and Gon don't know each other anymore. They're maybe a small step above strangers. Five years passed. _Five_. That's one thousand eight hundred twenty-six days. A lot happens in that time, and they've changed. That kid Killua fell in love with, that boy who loved the world and who had no sound moral compass and who was curious about everything… could be gone. Knowledge and experience could have stamped it out of him, changed him and morphed him.

And isn't that just the feel-good thought of the year?

Discovery Four: He's still pretty bitter about everything. That apology Gon gave Killua after he went through all the levels of hell and back for him just didn't cut it. It never had, it never will, and Killua knows he'll never forgive Gon until he knows his friend full understands _exactly_ what he was apologizing for. Which leaves Killua to his finally discovery.

Discovery Five: He isn't sure if he'd be able to forgive Gon anyway.

It 's like discovering the Epistle Partridge didn't exist all over again. Something fundamental in his world has been ripped apart in front of his eyes and he's left reeling to grab onto reality. Killua always forgave Gon. It's what he _does_ (or did). Gon did stupid stuff, and Killua stopped him. Gon did reckless stuff, and Killua just sighed and cleaned up the mess.

It's not that their relationship is a mess Killua can't clean up, but it's one he doesn't _want_ to clean up, not on his own. It's a task impossible for one person, but even if Gon's still willing to get on his hands and knees to help him clean, Killua doesn't know if _he_ is anymore.

Alluka is the new constant in his world, an anchoring rock compared to the tornado Gon had been. They bicker, but they're family to each other in a way the other Zoldyck's had rarely been. They're close. So when Killua moves out of his bed and into Alluka's halfway through _Miracle in York New_ , she doesn't put up much of a fuss. She lets him lay down next to her, close enough to feel warmth without actually touching, and wordlessly pushes the remote over to him.

He figures that he can at least finish this movie before he changes the channel.

* * *

(written on nice paper and placed in a nice envelope, slipped between the cracks of the floorboard)

 _December 17th_

 _I want to be able to forgive Gon._

 _Killua Zoldyck_

* * *

The partridge and the son traveled together, taking two days to arrive back at the partridge's tree. Continuing forward, it took them a short time to arrive at the mother's home, where the bird was delighted to see all the other siblings assorted and making a feast to honor their home. All had their tokens out, infusing them with new memories to take back to their new homes.

The partridge bestowed the final gift— an old fairy tale book the mother had read from every night since the first child had entered the world— and bid the man goodbye, understanding that though his goal had led him home, his next journey would undoubtedly take him away again.

Confident in the preservation of home for each child, the partridge withdrew to its own tree, content (and maybe even a little happy) to see the family's new found joy in their gifts that had once been common, household junk.

And so every year from then on, the partridge left his tree at what was thought to be the edge of the world and would deliver the ten gifts to each child to remind them of home.

…or something.

It's an old story that's been put through the ringer, you know? Mix-matched and edited and patched together again and again through the years. Even this version's got its kinks, its edits. No one knows how the original goes anymore.

How the story evolved from a desperate mother trying to make sure her children didn't forget her to current day kids sending letters to a fictional partridge and getting presents is a mystery to everyone really, but it makes people happy, so what does the original story matter if its edit makes people happy now?

That's the justification parents use when they tell the story anyway.

* * *

(written on a post-it note dotted with water and folded into a tiny square)

 _I want Gon._

* * *

Alluka is more than happy with her presents. Killua watches her smile grow with each new thing until she finally just launches herself across the shredded paper to hug her brother. Predictably Killua only gets about a third of the presents, but then that's his own fault. In fact he's really impressed how well Alluka did. He does get that box of chocolate balls and bright, purple socks with little soldiers (that must be the letter he threw up on the library's roof), so all in all, it's shaping up to be a nice holiday.

Then he opens his last present. It's in a plain, unmarked envelope that's the complete opposite of Alluka's usual showy, bright holiday wrappings and decorations, and that probably should tip him off, but he isn't really thinking. He just figures it was the extra money she had left over, so when he reaches into the envelope and withdraws a business card, he's more than a little confused.

Killua turns the card over, trying not to show his confusion as he thanks his sister because he doesn't really need a doctor…

Paladiknight. It's a business card for a Dr. Paladiknight—for _Leorio_ —and it lists his office's address and number right there in blue ink. And beneath that, scribbled in familiar chicken scratch, is another number marked "my personal phone."

Killua doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Alluka…"

"You don't have to call him right now," she says quickly. "But I figure we might be headed in that direction soon, so maybe you could visit? And I've always wanted to meet your friends…" She shifts sheepishly and changes the subject. "It took me awhile to find Leorio. I didn't get that until this morning—I didn't think I'd get it until tomorrow actually — so I couldn't really wrap this present. I couldn't find Kurapika but Leorio—"

Killua shakes his head. "Thanks…I just…I don't know." He stands, the room suddenly too small, and grabs the room key, the business card still clutched between two fingers. "I'll be back in soon, okay?"

He sees Alluka stand up out of the corner of his eye, but he's gone before she can say anything, pulling the door of their room open in a flash and taking the stairs three at a time, almost flying out of the door of the hotel room. His first breath of fresh air is harsh and icy, freezing his throat in an instant, and he doubles over from shock, almost gasping as he struggles to stop the spinning in his head. It passes quickly, though he still feels short of breath when he straightens up.

Killua runs a hand through his hair and sighs at the near empty street, turning around to go back in when he spots someone staring at him from next to the hotel's door. At first he completely disregards them (anyone would be staring at a crazy, white haired teenager that practically threw himself onto the sidewalk and started near hyperventilating) but something… isn't right.

He stops and looks at the stranger— _really_ looks— and notices the other teen is doing the same, except he looks like the wind's been knocked out of him. His eyes aren't like the Gon copy from the other day, slow and languid as he takes in Killua's appearance, but are hungry, jittery, jumping from Killua's face to his chest to his arms and back again, searching and devouring every part of him.

It makes Killua feel defensive and irritated. He tries to do the same to the boy, but he's completely covered in coats and blankets from head to toe, obviously some foreigner not used to the cold. A snarl starts to work its way to Killua's face (he's just not in a mood for creepy strangers), but then the guy talks.

"Killua?

That word completely short circuits Killua's brain. Or maybe it's the voice that does it. It might be half an octave deeper, but the voice is still unmistakable.

"Gon?" Killua asks. Alluka's words echo in his head, spinning in circles, because she said she couldn't find Kurapika but she said _nothing_ about Gon Freecs.

Killua's suddenly very aware as Gon comes closer that he's a mess. His already messy hair hasn't been brushed yet, and the wind did him no favors. He has on one of Alluka's old pink shirts that has little hearts all over it and blue PJ pants full of holes and stains. He hasn't brush his teeth yet or showered in two days. But when Gon hugs him, Killua pulls him closer and breaths him in, completely uncaring.

Distantly, Killua notes he was right about Gon being shorter than him, but not by much. Underneath all the bulk from the coats, his friend has a thinner frame than he thought he'd have, but those eyes are the same, and when he pulls the hood and scarf off his face, Gon still has that impossibly spiky air, tan skin, and infectious grin. There are lines though, around his eyes and mouth. He no longer has that blinding spark of life anymore, but Gon is still unmistakably light, just more contained. Warmer.

Obtainable.

"I'm sorry," Gon says in a rush, all the conviction and honesty that hadn't been in his apology all those years ago infused in this one. "I just lost it with Kite and snapped at you and that's no excuse. I didn't mean to…I didn't want to…" Gon stops, frustrated. "I wanted to see you again, Killua, but I didn't know if you wanted to see me and I'm really, really sorry. I was waiting for _you_ do something, but Alluka called me and—" He takes a deep breath and pulls away from Killua, offering that old, mischievous grin. Sure, it's not as wide as it used to be, but it's still Gon's special little grin, and it makes Killua realize Gon has become very, very handsome. Impish, but handsome. "Merry Epistle?"

Killua laughs and puts a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing it. "Merry Epistle, Gon."

He lets go and takes a step back, a small war taking place inside him for a minute as he looks at this new man, both familiar and different. It's obvious Gon isn't expecting any kind of friendly gesture, and Killua finds himself relieved to see a small, cautious shadow on Gon's face, to see the knowledge that all is not forgotten.

Killua decides he can't forgive the Gon that put him through hell at thirteen, that he'd fallen in love with. Not now.

"Do you want to come up? I bet Alluka wants to see you."

But he _can_ welcome in this new Gon.


End file.
